


Unmoved

by arthurmorgan-s-heart (Silverblind)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Other, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 04:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21368458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverblind/pseuds/arthurmorgan-s-heart
Summary: The past will never change.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	Unmoved

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on my tumblr blog arthurmorgan-s-heart

The morning is dark and quiet, dawn having barely begun to break as you lay in bed, hovering between sleep and wakefulness. Just as you feel yourself start to drift back into darkness, a kiss is pressed to your cheek, and you smile, electing to stay awake - for now. You keep your eyes closed, humming sleepily as you feel lips trailing down your neck and to your shoulder, a hand landing on your hip and gripping tight. You turn your head when you feel someone shift beside you, and you finally allow your eyes to open, the world wavering and shimmering for a moment before coming into focus, and revealing Arthur’s face above yours.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he whispers as his fingers brush down your cheek, his thumb following the curve of your face before settling at the corner of your mouth. His touch is cold, and you shiver.

“Mornin’,” you answer quietly, your voice still hoarse from sleep. You reach up to cradle his cheek, thumb sweeping over his cheekbone in a soothing motion before you draw him down to you for a kiss, long and slow, your eyes fluttering shut as you try to lose yourself in the feeling of him against you. His skin in cold, despite the warmth of the room, and something feels - _different_.

“Missed you,” he whispers against your lips, and it almost seems to you that you can’t feel his breath fanning over your face. The fingers of his free hand your hair your hair, threading through the strands gently.

“Missed you too,” you reply, opening your eyes to look at him as you smile, though it slowly fades as a feeling of unease comes over you - had that scar above his lip always been there? Had his eyes always been more grey than blue? Something jostles in your mind, like a memory long forgotten that is suddenly remembered, but it hovers just out of reach.

“Been a long time,” he says, the hand he has in your hair coming down to tuck a few stray strands behind your ear. His fingers are still as cold as bone, and you reach up to take his hand in both of yours, pressing it between your palms to try and seep a bit of warmth back into him.

“It has,” you answer lightly, freeing one of your hands to cup his cheek again while you press his hand to your chest with the other. He smiles - no, not exactly; there is something in his gaze that prevents you from truly thinking that he’s smiling - before turning his head to kiss your palm, a shadow passing behind his eyes as he looks at you, longingly, as if he hadn’t seen you in years.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and you open your mouth, intending to ask what he could possibly have to apologise for, but the words catch in your throat as realisation flashes through you, immediately followed by pain and grief, settling into your heart and your lungs and your stomach like heavy stones.

_I remember._

It’s his turn to clasp your hand in both of his as he leans forward to press a long, forlorn kiss to your forehead, and you want to cry, and beg, and scream, but you know it won’t change anything.

You’d seen it all before.

You wake up with tears streaming down your face, your hand splayed over the cold, empty space in the bed next to you, searching for the warmth of someone you hadn’t seen in years, and would never see again. You squeeze your eyes shut, your hand bunching into the fabric as you bury your face in your pillow to muffle a shuddering sob. 

There are too many ghosts in this house already, but you’re one of them now - this is where you belong. So you will stay, and be haunted by memories of a better time and dreams of the man you have loved and lost.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a request, but the idea popped into my head and I really wanted to write it down (even though it's an old and tired trope, I know). So here we are.


End file.
